Post by Ellinda Wechseln on Jan 16, 2014 8:11:37 GMT -5
Oh, such a cute being. There was the tiny little cat. A kitten. I was holding him in my hand. The color was a pale brown color, a strange pattern of it covering its back. There were those four tiny legs holding up this tiny creature, a tiny tail in between his legs, small ears on the tiny head. I stared down at the little thing, so tiny, so fragile, him looking up at me with those comparatively huge cat-eyes. He had no idea what was going to happen. I looked down at him with a small, sad-looking smile, knowing what was about to happen was not entirely my fault. They had done it. It was their fault. Because of them, I had to do this. The kitten had no idea what was happening, the small head looking around in the briefest glimmer of panic as I gently put him down on my table. The pale brown haired creature stood on his own wobbly legs, as soon as he reached the surface. A small meow escaped his lips, but it was barely a squeak that sounded almost as if it should rather have come from a distressed mouse. He was so cute, now wobbling towards the edge of the table to stare down at the leap he would someday be able to make easily… I went over to the wall and put on the white apron hanging there. Wouldn’t want my clothes to be stained.
He immediately looked up at me with but a hint of fright as I walked back towards him. I wonder, is he intelligent enough to recognize me? Am I a friend in his eyes? I don’t know, but the fright disappeared soon enough and another long squeak of a meow left his tiny mouth as the tiny furball started wobblingly step towards the center of the table. I leaned down to place my face precisely to peek at him from the same height as the cat’s face. The cute little thing seemed to take notice of me, cried his minor meow and sought towards me, by some reason walking wobbly up to me and placed his tiny nose on my somewhat larger nose. I giggled at the cute sensation, standing up before the cat could continue his venture into my face. The cat looked up at me standing up as in shaken confusion, then made his little cry once again and starting to turn his little head away to go someplace else. He had no idea… he had no idea… … … The knife I held fell so fast towards his head, it was brutal.
I gasped. It was so easy. The knife had gone half-way through the tiny creature’s head, and he had slumped down on his stomach like it was natural. The kitten was… dead. My shaking hand held the knife that had killed him. Blood had splattered from the impact onto part of the table, the knife, my hand and arm, my apron, and some on my face… I stared wide-eyed down on the corpse of the tiny defenseless lifeless creature, robbed of his future. In my agitation, I was breathing heavily, feeling tears roll down my panicked expression. Th-this wasn’t my fault. They made me do it. I warned them, but they wouldn’t listen. They provoked me. This isn’t my fault. This isn’t my fault! Feeling an overpowering wave of sadness, guilt and tears burst out, I dropped the knife where it fell down onto the floor and brought both of my hands up to my face as if to stop the tears. Then, after a moment of fear and hesitation, I just ran crying back towards my room, emotionally scarred by the action I had been forced to commit…
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[Don't take it too seriously]
He immediately looked up at me with but a hint of fright as I walked back towards him. I wonder, is he intelligent enough to recognize me? Am I a friend in his eyes? I don’t know, but the fright disappeared soon enough and another long squeak of a meow left his tiny mouth as the tiny furball started wobblingly step towards the center of the table. I leaned down to place my face precisely to peek at him from the same height as the cat’s face. The cute little thing seemed to take notice of me, cried his minor meow and sought towards me, by some reason walking wobbly up to me and placed his tiny nose on my somewhat larger nose. I giggled at the cute sensation, standing up before the cat could continue his venture into my face. The cat looked up at me standing up as in shaken confusion, then made his little cry once again and starting to turn his little head away to go someplace else. He had no idea… he had no idea… … … The knife I held fell so fast towards his head, it was brutal.
I gasped. It was so easy. The knife had gone half-way through the tiny creature’s head, and he had slumped down on his stomach like it was natural. The kitten was… dead. My shaking hand held the knife that had killed him. Blood had splattered from the impact onto part of the table, the knife, my hand and arm, my apron, and some on my face… I stared wide-eyed down on the corpse of the tiny defenseless lifeless creature, robbed of his future. In my agitation, I was breathing heavily, feeling tears roll down my panicked expression. Th-this wasn’t my fault. They made me do it. I warned them, but they wouldn’t listen. They provoked me. This isn’t my fault. This isn’t my fault! Feeling an overpowering wave of sadness, guilt and tears burst out, I dropped the knife where it fell down onto the floor and brought both of my hands up to my face as if to stop the tears. Then, after a moment of fear and hesitation, I just ran crying back towards my room, emotionally scarred by the action I had been forced to commit…
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[Don't take it too seriously]